Falling Hard
by Crowded Angels
Summary: MSR. The stronger they are, the harder they fall. Especially in Mac's case. After the death of his Mom, he embarks on a whirlwind tour of grief, denial and adultery, taking Stella along for the ride.
1. Chapter 1

Well, hello all! It's been a while, I'm sorry to say. I dabbled in some other fandoms and RL came into play more than I'd like to admit too.

BUT, yes, new fic! This has been nicknamed 'The Beast' while in production, for it's length so far (over 15,000wds) and the fact that it plagued my every thought and then how the muse took an impromptu and unappreciated break.

I have to thank **Tricki** for being my beta and poker when the words began to escape me. Love ya sweets! And **Lily Moonlight **for theorising with me and writing the amazing 'Lost Letters' that y'all have to read if you haven't already.

On with the show. Hope you enjoy, and stick with it to the next chapters :) Becs x

EDIT**:: Quick point I forgot to mention. The character Natalie Roberts is from a past fic of mine called 'Semper Fidelis'. I loved writing her, and people seemed to like reading her, so... She sort of takes the place of Lindsay, in the sense of the other female character, not in the Danny sense. She's a married lady, for heaven's sake! So, yeah. Thanks to Lily for reminding me haha

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It always eluded Mac Taylor as to why the underground garage exaggerated the weather. In Summer, it was unbearably hot; in Winter - as it was now - the short walk from his parking space to the elevator set goose pimples aloft on his skin, and his teeth chattering until his head hurt. Sometimes, with not enough sleep and too much late night television, he would devise wild and wacky theories - most times of maniacal higher-ups, few times of aliens after watching certain shows - to explain the perpetually broken air-conditioning.

Even now, as the season approached Spring, the car thumped and groaned as it cooled down too quickly for its liking in the below-zero garage. He wrapped his lapels tighter around his chest as he quickly trotted between the cars to the elevator doors. He shook off the chill as he entered the carriage, thumbing for the 38th floor.

"Good morning," Stella smirked, the New York skyline framing her as she sat on Mac's chair, feet up on the desk.

"Good morning to you too," he chuckled. "Making yourself at home?"

"Just trying it out for future reference." She swung her legs down, heels clicking onto the floor. "You ready?"

"Ready for what?" he asked with a pre-emptive sigh, hanging his long coat on the hook and turning back to her.

"Nat finished processing the Marsh evidence," she stood up as Mac crossed the office. Perching on the corner of the desk as she continued, "No match to Griffiths."

"What? But he had her blood on him," he counted on his fingers, "He was arrested at the scene; He admitted to being there!" He flopped into his chair, papers wafting from the desk to the floor.

"Oh, he was there, but he didn't do the deed," she continued, bending to retrieve the fallen documents. "Or so the evidence says, at least."

He shook his head, taking the papers. "You couldn't wait until I had had at least _half_ a cup of coffee, could you?"

"Where would the fun be in that?" she said with an incredulous smirk, as if to suggest she would act any differently.

Narrowing his eyes as he looked up at her, he said, "I don't like it when you're dating someone and all bubbly. It makes you evil." He leant back on the chair, "-er. It makes you _eviler_."

She laughed, but gave him a nudge with her knee for good measure.

He scanned the disarray of the desk, pulling papers towards him as if perusing their stories as he asked, "So, how's it going? You and Aaron…" He didn't look at her.

"Oh, yeah," she watched her feet intently as she crossed them in different directions, picking lint from her jeans, "It's, er, great. I'm happy."

"Good-" he was interrupted by Nat at the door.

"Guys! I did it! I got him!"

"-morning, Natalie," he finished, changing his intended sentence.

"Oh, good morning, Mac," she smiled, still obviously bouncing about whatever results were on the portable monitor in her hand.

"Well?" Stella asked, looking over her shoulder.

She snapped back to the present, "Oh! Griffiths. I got him. I can place him at the scene,"

"So could we…"

"Yes, but I have him on the rope used to kill Amelia Marsh," Nat beamed, very happy for herself.

"What?" Stella quickly crossed the room, taking the monitor from her hands. She scanned the results, sliding a finger down the screen to see the report in its entirety. "Nice work, Natalie."

"Thank you," she grinned.

"Mac?" Stella called as he passed the two women.

"I need coffee before we get anymore developments!"

Stella grinned, watching him disappear into the break room. Realising Nat was watching her instead of Mac, she snapped back and passed the monitor. "Really good work, Nat."

"Thanks," she smiled. She turned to leave but apprehensively spun back around. "Hey, can I ask you a question?"

"Of course," she closed the glass door and gestured to the two guest chairs. "What's up?"

"I'm having a bit of trouble with a friend. I, er, I think she's keeping things from me." She looked to Stella with sad, worried eyes, though they glinted with mischievousness. "Something about an 'Aaron'…?"

Stella's worried expression died instantly, replaced with part amusement, part annoyance.

Nat began to smirk, "Spill."

"There's nothing to 'spill'!" She threw her arms up in defence, but that was apparently not a sufficient answer judging by the smug look on Natalie's face. Regardless of only working at the New York CSI base for just over a year, the only women of day shift had built a relationship neither had expected. Taking on the level of high school girls at times, they would meet after work for a beer and gossip. It was the kind of female friendship that had often eluded Stella. Growing up in the care system as she had, trust wasn't something she could afford to offer up easily, but there was something about Natalie Roberts left her instantly at ease.

Though relatively new to New York (having been born and bred in Wisconsin before following her husband to the Big Apple), Natalie exuded the no-nonsense charm a native would be proud of. She was cheeky and sarcastic and had a 'thing' for guys in uniforms; in other words a perfect match for Stella Bonasera.

"Alright, fine. Aaron Bastian, 38 years old from Queens, New York. He likes action movies and sweet popcorn; prefers beer to liquor and plays a good game of pool. Happy?"

"How long you been seeing him?"

"…two months…"

"_Two months_? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't tell anyone," she said, her eyeline dropping to her lap.

"Why not?"

"Well, my last boyfriend tried to kill Mac; the one before did a damn good job of nearly killing me. People tend to worry if they hear I have a new guy. The sale of Kevlar goes up three fold."

"Oh shut up," she scolded. "I'm just happy you're happy. You certainly _seem_ happy."

"I _am_ happy."

"So when do I get to meet him?"

"Oh… never?" Stella smirked.

"I hurt!" Nat exclaimed, her hand grabbing at her chest.

Stella laughed, her eyes suddenly setting onto Mac's approaching form. "Come on. We need to question Griffiths again."

Xx

Stella sank down onto the locker room bench with a resounding thud. She swiped a hand over her face with a jaded sigh; it had been a long day.

"You look tired," Mac's voice announced. She noticed him standing in the doorway. "Why don't you take the next two days off?"

"You're funny," she answered, not amused but smirking. It was Friday, she had the next two days off anyway.

"I try."

"Try harder."

He laughed, "You heading home?"

"Yeah, via Sullivan's. I'm meeting Aaron."

Mac nodded, "Walk you out?"

"Sure," she smiled. She grabbed her bag and jacket from her locker and followed him to the elevators. "Anything planned for your weekend?"

"The usual."

"Paperwork?"

"The down-side to the job."

"You need to get out, Mac! Go to a bar, meet a lovely lady-"

"Hold that thought," he laughed as his phone trilled in his pocket. He pressed to answer as they stepped into the elevator carriage. "Taylor."

Stella pressed for the parking garage.

"Hello?" Mac said loudly. "Sal? Is that you?" He pivoted slightly, stealing a look at the screen. "I got you! Hi, everything okay?"

Stella laughed as he began to pivot again. "Wait, wait, you're breaking up…Hello? Loud and clear, what's up?"

She watched as his face went through a full range of expressions: amused, impassive to worried and deeply, deeply saddened. A palpable silence enveloped the car.

"I'm still here," he slowly uttered. "Yeah, I'll, er, call you in a few hours. Thanks, Sal." He rang off, staring at the phone.

"Mac? Everything okay?" she put a hand on his arm. In just four floors, his whole demeanour had completely changed.

"That was my cousin, Sal," he breathed. "My, er… my Mom died last night." His breath hitched a slight, "Never woke up."

"Oh, Mac," she sighed, squeezing his arm before wrapping her arms around him. She felt him melt into the embrace, his face buried in her shoulder. She sighed, her heart breaking as he held tighter. He took a deep breath, turning into her hair as he did so, only pulling back as the doors jerked open to the garage. She looped an arm through his and they stepped out into the chilled air. His mind was running in all directions, asking when was the last time he had spoken to his Mom; the last thing he said to her; was she in pain when she passed…

"She was a good woman," she sighed with a slight nod, snapping Mac from his reverie. "I'll miss her phone calls where she'd say you _sound_ like you're not eating properly," she laughed gently, casting an anxious side glance and thankfully finding a small smile from Mac. "Oh, and her rum-raison cookies with home-made ice tea. How were you not 300lbs growing up? They were incredible!"

He snorted a laugh, though his eyes weren't in the sentiment.

She smiled, pulling her other hand over to squeeze the arm entwined with hers. They walked the rest of the short distance in silence. "What are you going to do?"

He sighed, leaning back on the car. "Go pack a bag and get the next flight to Chicago."

Stella nodded, resting her hand on his arm. "I've got here, don't you dare think about it. Call me when have details and I'll get a flight over."

Part of him sank even further. Stella had been there for him through all the funerals in the past 16years, the anchor he didn't realise he needed until waking up on the other side. She and Claire would almost tag-team the efforts, his wife molly-coddling him at home, Stella at work. She had enough death in her life without adding his into the mix. He wanted to refuse, to tell her she needn't be there, but the words couldn't leave his mouth. He wanted her there.

"Thank you," he whispered. His eyes were cast to the floor, the colour drained from his face.

She pulled him back into a hug, holding him tighter. "Call me, okay? Any time for anything."

"I will."

"I mean it," she pulled back, looking him in the eyes. "_anything._"

He smiled lightly, "I'll see you soon."

She squeezed his hand, before watching him drive away. He gave a slight smile but the heartbreak was more than evident in his eyes. She wiped at her eyes, her lips in a tight line.

Xx

Stella flicked at the label on her bottle, picking and pulling until it was barely there, just gridlines of glue. She wasn't paying attention. Her mind was cast back over the months after Claire's death, when Mac…she couldn't think of a word strong enough to describe how he was. Distraught? Defeated? Empty?

She wasn't sure he could survive that again.

He was one of the strongest men she knew, but he could break more than anyone.

A knock to the window startled her as Aaron ran past, looking drowned in the heavy rainfall. She smiled and waited for him to join her at the stools.

"Hey you," he smiled, placing a chaste kiss in her hair before sitting down.

"You're soaked!" Stella laughed, raking a hand through his longer dark hair, scraping back what was matted to his face.

"It's raining," he quipped taking a gulp of her beer.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious," she smirked, taking her drink back.

Aaron took off his jacket and swiped a napkin over his face, cursing his decision to not need a car in NYC. He watched as the twinkling in her eyes from their flirty banter seemed to disappear quickly. "You okay?"

"Yeah…" she sighed, "Mac's Mom died this morning."

"Oh man, did you know her?"

She nodded. "Lily was good woman. The original spitfire," she laughed, remembering various episodes.

"How's Mac doing?" he asked, dropping his laptop bag to the free chair next to him.

"So far he's doing alright, but…"

"But…?"

"We've been here before for his Dad and his wife and…so many people," she sighed.

"When's the funeral?" He asked, signalling Joey at the bar for a similar round of beers.

"Nothing's been sorted yet. Mac's heading up there now. I said I'd meet him when he knew anything."

Aaron nodded. He was well aware of Mac and Stella's friendship, the level of unwritten co-dependence they shared. Mac was the first -and only, come to think of it- person from Stella's life that he had been introduced too and their connection was undeniable. He was assured it was purely platonic and had no evidence to suggest otherwise regardless of what experience had taught him.

"Listen, this… this could get messy. Mac can hit rock-bottom, then go a few layers further down," she warned with hand gestures. Her worrisome green eyes bore into his brown.

He took hold of her hands. "You be there for Mac, I'll be here for you."

She smiled, leaning in to kiss him. "I'll make it up to you."

"Oh, I like the sound of that," he laughed as she kissed him again.

"You guys want these beers?" Joey Sullivan smirked, amusement and mischief twinkling in the brown eyes below bushy brows.

Aaron cleared his throat as Stella sat back in her seat. "Apologies, my good man," he laughed, taking the bottles from him.

Xx

"Hey, have you-" A voice broke Stella's reverie. "What are smiling about?" Nat continued, creeping further into her supervisor's office.

"None of yours," Stella grinned, tucking her cell phone, with Aaron's text, in her drawer.

"Mmhmm…" she laughed.

"What can I do for you, Natalie?"

"Oh, full name - you mean business. You seen Mac?"

"No, and we're not going to for a while…His Mom died on Friday. He's in Chicago for the foreseeable future."

"Oh, God…" Nat breathed, her hands grasping onto the back of the guest chair. "How is he?"

"'Fine'," Stella quoted with her fingers. "I'm getting stuff sorted here and heading over at some point."

"Yeah, no worries. Send him our love."

Stella nodded as her phone began to ring in her drawer. "Speak of the devil."

Nat motioned that she'd talk to her later.

"Hey you," she smiled, bringing the phone to her ear.

"Hi," he replied, his voice low.

"How you holdin' up?"

"I'm fine. The funeral's booked; 2pm Tuesday."

"I'll be there," she promised. His short answers and low tone spoke more than his words ever could.

He left it a beat before asking, "Everything okay over there?"

"Oh, you know," she smiled lightly, trying to bring some normalcy into the conversation for him. "Danny and Adam are destroying parts of the lab with their experiments; Flack's following Angell around like a love-sick puppy in disguise and Nat's stalking me for dirt on me and Aaron…"

"So, the usual then?"

"The usual. All send their love."

"Tell them thank you. And to get back to work."


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you to everyone who has read(/is reading), reviewed and/or favourited. MEANS SO MUCH. **

**This is where we jump the preverbial shark... x**

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The cab pulled up outside the Taylor residence, the white house looming at the corner of a quiet cul-de-sac.

Looking through the window, Stella noted a few familiar faces, unfortunately realising she only knew them from various funerals. With a deep breath and lips in a tight line, she grabbed her bag from the seat and paid the driver, slamming the door behind her.

She opened the wrought iron gate, her heels wobbly on the gravel path as she walked to the open red door. "Knock knock," she called, smiling into the crowd of faces. There wasn't the usual 'funeral' air about the congregation. There were smiles and some laughing, more like a family get-together than the mourning of a passed relative. Of course, there was still the element of sombre about them, but she decided Lily was still working her magic, even from beyond the grave. She was always the first to speak and the last to sit, never letting anyone fade into a corner.

The faces turned towards her, before one man walked from the other side of the room to greet her. "Stella, it's good to see you."

"You too, Sal," she smiled warmly, shaking the cousin's hand and kissing his cheek. "I'm sorry about your Aunt."

"Yeah, me too." His eyes dropped, the sadness he felt almost palpable. "Mac's upstairs."

"How's he doin'?"

"'Fine'," he quoted, with Stella as an echo. "You're spending too much time with my little cuz, Stella."

She laughed, pointing to the top of the stairs. He nodded, "First door on the left."

"I'll see you later, Sal." She took to the stairs, watching as Mac grew before her eyes in the pictures adorning the wall; his eyes the constant on his changing face and physique.

The door to the first room was closed, she knocked, opening it slightly. "Mac?"

He was sat on the bed, his back hunched as elbows leant on his knees. "Hi," he muttered, looking up to her with what looked like an amount of relief.

"Hi," she smiled as he stood to meet her. She gave him a hug, asking, "How we doing?"

"I'm fine."

Stella nodded, already sick of hearing that lie. His black suit made him look even paler as he steeled his nerves and looked straight at her with watery eyes. She looked around the room, sensing he wasn't up to the Mom-based questions, "So this is the place, huh? Where all the _magic _happened?"

He snorted, "Not quite."

She looked around, dragging a finger across the selection of books on a shelf. Aristotle to Steinbeck, Stoker to Verne. "Have you changed at all?"

"I like to think so. Your flight okay?"

"Nothing special." She smirked at the dark tie around his neck, gently tugging on it. "I thought I'd gotten rid of these…"

"Hey, Aunt Tracy!" A voice called from the doorway. The gentleman had his face turned to the stairs, but his eyes firmly set on Mac with a smirk adorning his handsome features. "Mac has a girl in his room!"

"Grow up, Jimmy!" A faint voice replied.

"We're ready to go," Jimmy laughed, disappearing.

"See why I moved to New York?" Mac muttered with an eye roll.

Stella laughed, leading to the door. She spun back to him, a hand on the frame, "You ready for this?"

He sighed heavily, "No."

Xx

The hearse pulled up at the gates Stella had arrived at just moments before, a row of town cars right behind. The family moved outside onto the street, a peaceful silence enveloping them as they stared at the dark wood coffin. Mac made his way to the front of the crowd, a deep sigh escaping as he looked towards the cars.

"Are you Mac Taylor, sir?" the funeral director asked in hushed British tones. He reminded Stella of someone out of _Oliver!, _with his pinstripe trousers and long black tails.

Mac couldn't find his voice, just managing to nod as his eyes stared at the coffin. "If you'd like to follow me, please." The director guided Mac to the first town car, opening the door as he asked, "There is room for six in each car, who would you like to ride with you?"

Mac looked behind him as Sal organised the crowd between the vehicles. The cousin gestured to various people and to the second car, telling Stella to follow Mac into the first. "He's gonna need you," he whispered.

Stella nodded and slid into the seat next to him, taking his hand in hers as they waited for the hearse to pull away. Part of him wanted to speed up the procession, to make the day be over before he could blink, but every time he opened his eyes again, the word 'Mom' is white flowers stared back at him from the front car.

Memories played out behind his eyes. The military fanfare at his Father's funeral; Aiden's four brothers acting as pallbearers; the empty coffin for Claire. He opened the window, thankful for the slight cool breeze as a wave of heated nausea passed over him. Stella squeezed his hand.

A few turns in the road and they were outside the quaint Church, friends and family lining the street as they exited the cars. Mac recognised most of them, but the unfamiliar faces just reminded him of how much time he spent away from his mother. Sal shook hands and kissed the unknowns as he hugged his relatives. Stella stepped into the line, watching as Mac moved to the hearse, its back doors open. He reached out a hand to the shined wood as Sal and the other pallbearers moved into position.

They carried the weight at waist height up the few steps before raising it to their shoulders for the aisle. An unseen organ began as the congregation filed into the Church, Mac staring at the red carpet below his feet, not looking towards any faces.

They set the coffin onto the base and sat in a pew, Mac sliding up to Stella.

Holding his head high and proud, the service began.

Xx

The wake was held in the function room at the local hotel where Stella was staying, the family finding it easier to use their in-house caterers than cook their own buffet. The bar was also a pulling point.

Stella had been whisked away by Sal to meet various Taylor's as they entered the room, Mac smiling as he watched her meet-and-greet. She would keep scanning the room to find him, seeing him at the bar or at a table chatting, while her diversionary and escapist tactics kept failing her. .

"-was a lovely woman," a voice continued. "Loved that son of hers. Never saw him much, but that didn't matter to Lily."

Stella smiled, trying to remember if she was talking to Great Aunt Ida, or neighbour Ada…

"Did you ever meet her?"

"Oh yes, a number of times. We would talk on the phone occasionally too, when she couldn't get hold of Mac. Unfortunately, I only really saw her at funerals."

The woman nodded, her greyed hair bobbing as she did. "I was just saying to Ada," (_This has gotta be Ida_, Stella decided), "I was just saying the last time we saw Mac was at Boyd's funeral. Was you there, dear?"

"I was."

"Lovely ceremony, that. Lovely. Of course, for my Jimmy's funeral-"

"-I'm sorry, Aunt Ida, can I steal Stella?" Sal interrupted, leaning down to the table.

"-oh! Well, if you must. It's been lovely speaking with you, Stella," Ida smiled.

"You too, Ida. I'll come and find you later, hopefully," Stella said, rising to her feet. Sal lead her over to the bar as she whispered, "Thank you!"

"I thought you might need rescuing. Aunt Ida's 'lovely', but she can talk for Chicago," he laughed, thrusting a white wine into her hand. She laughed as she took a sip. "Plus, I haven't had a chance to talk to you myself yet. How are you keeping?"

"I'm good, Sal. You? You're looking good. "

"I'm not bad, I'll be better when tomorrow's here," he said, gulping from his bottle.

Stella nodded. "Did you see Lily a lot?" She asked, her eyes scanning the room for Mac, seeing him sat a glass-laden table talking to some cousins.

"You knew Lily. She had all the family 'round every Sunday, come rain or shine. She really pulled out the stops when Mac was in town."

"I think he's beginning to regret staying away so much."

"You have to stop him doing that. He already did that guilt trip when Uncle Boyd died. His life isn't here anymore, Aunt Lily knew that. Not to say she wouldn't have like see him more, but she understood."

Stella nodded, setting her glass down on the bar.

"To be honest, I think she would have preferred to see Grandkids instead of Mac."

Stella laughed, "Yeah, she told me that once or twice."

Sal gestured towards her with his bottle.

"Oh, no, not with me. She would phone me and ask if he was getting out to meet any 'nice ladies'."

"That sounds about right," Sal laughed. "So you and he…?"

"No, erm, we're close, but not that close."

"You know, after Claire died, we, er… we thought we were going to get a phone call to say he'd died too."

Stella nodded solemnly. "Takotsubo cardiomyopathy."

"…what now?" Sal laughed, his once military physique jiggling.

"Broken Heart Syndrome," she muttered, looking over his shoulder to find Mac looking into his glass, oblivious to discussion around him

Sal nodded, his eyes cast to the bottle in his hand, "We really thought…" with a breath, he perked himself up again, "But somehow you brought him through that."

"Only just," she gave a humourless laugh.

"He's taking this hard, Stella. I'm worried about him."

She lay a hand on his arm, "I know. But… if we can get him past Claire's death, we can help him through this one, okay?"

"I'm the oldest now, of this generation I mean," he corrected with furrowed brows, "So I feel somehow…responsible. Mac's always been a stand-up guy, he'd always be the first there if something happened. But over his forty five years _a lot _has happened and I've watched as it got slower and slower for him to bounce back from it, you know? I just…"

"Hey," she warned, pulling him into a hug, "He'll be fine. I promise."

He nodded against her shoulder before pulling back, "People will start talking…" he laughed.

She smiled, grabbing her glass from the bar and taking a sip. She looked around the room, "Speaking of Mac, I think I might check in, see how he's doing."

Sal nodded, "Thanks, Stella."

She squeezed his arm as she passed, scanning the crowd. She went over to the table where she'd seen him last, stepping aside as a waitress cleared the glasses, "Hi, you seen Mac?"

"He was here a minute ago…" came a reply. She stood tall again, trying to see over the strong crowd. She grabbed someone as they walked past, asking the same question and getting the same answer. She didn't like this, something was wrong. He wouldn't have just disappeared without letting anyone know, even if it was just say he was getting some air. She shouldn't have left him alone so long…

She thought about asking Sal, but he looked so worried about his little cousin that she didn't want to add to his burden. Placing her drink on the bar, she set about scanning the hotel.

She was beginning to panic now, not finding him in any of the quiet lounges or bars. Just a little, but still panic nonetheless. She thought back to when she'd seen Mac like this before, it had been eight years and it worried her what eight years of maturity on old emotions could entail. She called his name as she quickly walked through the halls, telling herself he'd just gone for a modicum of peace and that she was just over-reacting as usual.

Part of her was glad that he was possibly finally excepting that he wasn't 'fine' and was embracing his emotions; a larger part of her was anxious about such acceptance.

She passed through a door that lead to a corridor with windows showing the darkened garden area. She checked her watch, not believing how late the hour had become.

Finally, she saw him sat on the fountain. She stood at the door for a minute, a hand bracing the frame, just watching him. As she approached, she saw the large glass of scotch - at least three fingers - dangling from his hand. The clicking of her heels and the rushing water from the feature were the only sound as she took a seat next to him. He had his back to her, facing away.

Stella took the glass from him and put it on the other side of her, putting her hand in its place. She intertwined their fingers and held on tight, covering them with her other hand.

Slowly, he spun around to look at her. She almost felt relief as she took in his rough features. He wasn't sleeping again, that much was evident. The dark purple bags that cushioned his sad eyes looked shades darker in the dim moonlight. She felt relief in that the tough 'cope with anything' façade he kept had dropped to show his true emotions. Her heart was breaking for him.

She brought a hand to his cheek, the pads of her fingers stroking over the stubble before gently guiding his head to her shoulder.

A million memories of similar times flashed before her. It had only been in the past few that she had managed to bring him back to full functionality after Claire's death; this time was going to need different measures. He wasn't only mourning his Mom, but anyone and everyone he had ever lost, it seemed. With his military and his CSI career, that was a lot of lost souls he was shouldering the blame for. "You're going to be fine," she whispered. "We'll get through this." She leant down against his head, her eyes closing.

They stayed like that for a while, Mac relaxing in ways he had only ever been on the other side of - he was usually the shoulder to Stella's cheek, not the other way around. He sighed heavily, "Everyone's gone now."

He sensed her tensing slightly as she wanted to say 'You still have me'.

"I mean my family. My parents, my wife…" He reached around her for the whisky glass, taking a large gulp as he stood up.

Her mouth fell open as she watched him. She hadn't seen him drink in a long time. He'd been carrying a drink all day, but she hadn't actually seen him take a sip. Now she seemed to be able smell booze all around him. She tried to think of the last time she'd seen him drink, estimating it was around Claire's death. "Mac…"

"Hmm?" he looked at her, his top lip still glistening.

"You don't drink…"

He looked to his hand, the auburn liquid swilling as glassed tipped slightly. "I didn't drink because I had a problem. I didn't drink because I didn't want to. Now, I want to."

"Please, Mac," she crossed to him, hoping he'd give her the glass. It wasn't that he had a problem with alcohol, he was right, but any other day he wouldn't have drunk, so why now? She hadn't seen him like this in a long time and it was beginning to worry her.

He spun back to her, slowly reaching behind her to put the glass back on the fountain. He was bent near her stomach, but as the glass touched the stone he slowly straightened up, barely inches from her. She looked into his eyes and hardly recognised the shade of green staring back at her.

He touched her cheek, gently. Intimately.

Something wasn't right.

"Mac-"

Before she could finish her sentence, he lowered his lips to hers quickly. She was too shocked to respond at first, not fully realising the situation until his hand fell to its familiar station at the small of her back, only this time it was pulling her body flush against his.

She brought her palms up flat on his chest and tried to push him off, but his hand on her cheek went to her neck and kept her fastened to his lips.

She thought about bringing her knee up between his legs, incapacitating him in the most efficient way, but he was in enough pain that she didn't want to add physical pain as well. This was still Mac, after all, just a different version to the Mac she spent her days with.

By the time this thought had processed, he had trapped her bottom lip between his and stilled, waiting for her response (waiting for a knee to the groin).

She heard herself give an involuntary moan when he stopped, - where had that come from? - and in that split second, something changed within her. Her next actions were like someone else was performing them, like her consciousness was a couple of seconds behind her body.

She flicked her tongue over his top lip, still able to taste the whisky from before. Sliding her hands up his chest, she entwined her fingers over his shoulders and tilted her head, restarting the kiss.

Knowing he had permission now, Mac gave it every fibre of passion he could muster, sliding his tongue over her lips as she had done.

His hand left her cheek and roamed down her body to join his other on her back, only this time going slightly lower.

Stella moaned again, igniting a fire in his abdomen that travelled through his body.

Before she knew what had happened, Stella was side-stepping to regain her footing as Mac ripped himself away from her.

He was sat back down on the stone ledge of the fountain. He held his head in his hands, face pointing to the ground.

Stella blinked, running a finger over her tingling lips. She sighed as she looked around to Mac, berating herself for giving in when she registered what he was doing.

"Come on," she whispered, raking a hand over his hair as she squatted in front of him. "You need to sleep."

He nodded, "Doesn't mean I'll get it."

"We gotta try," her hand rested on his knee. She breathed deeply, asking quietly, "Like old times?"

His head nudged up, his thankful, apologetic, fatigue-ridden eyes staring into hers as he gave the slightest nod.

Xx

With a deep breath, Stella's eyes fought open. She swiped at them with a heavy paw, seeing Mac's hunched back slowly come into focus. He was sat on the edge of the bed with his hands holding his head, mirroring his earlier stance. "Mac?" her voice croaked. "What time is it?"

"Just after four," he said, looking over his shoulder. 'Like old times' had meant Stella lying next to him, hoping against hope that her presence would give him some kind of comfort to allow sleep to come. "I'm sorry."

"You didn't wake me," she smiled lightly, blinking her eyes to shift the sleep-induced film that covered them. The bedroom was dark except for the aura of streetlights around the window, and the currently blurred red display on the alarm clock.

"No, for…my behaviour before. Yesterday. It was…unacceptable. Jesus, I can't believe I did that to you." He shook his head, his mind still on the wrong side of sobriety, not quite hit hangover.

"Oh God, Mac. I didn't exactly throw you off." She climbed over the duvet next to him, placing her hands on his shoulders as she suddenly wakened fully. "You're not going to carry that on these, okay? Speaking of shoulders… Jesus, Mac." The muscles were solid beneath her touch, knotted more than she had ever felt them to be before.

She began to press her fingers into the white vest he wore, her thumbs moving in deep circles across his collar. She was happy when his head dropped down, allowing her ministrations more room to manoeuvre. A small moan escaped his lips as she hit a particularly sore spot under his shoulder blades.

Part of her was very aware of how intimate the scene was, especially as she felt another moan vibrate through his body. Her mind raced away from her, rationality screaming of his vulnerability, of it being _Mac _beneath her touch, and lastly of Aaron. Yet, another part of her, the part that had a seemingly endless glass of wine just a few hours ago, kept reminding her of how her body responded to that kiss in the courtyard. Where sounds escaped that she had no control over, where it was purely instinctual.

She tried to refocus her mind, looking to the window to the thin shafts of moonlight filtering between the curtains. But his rough, thick skin beneath her fingers kept her slamming back to the reality of the situation and to the increasing heartbeat seeming to originate in her ears.

She let go - had to - and sat back on her heels. Mac turned around, staring at her, knowing exactly what she was thinking. He extended an arm, cupping her chin and bringing her closer to him.

He kissed her hard and passionately.

Ignoring the screaming in her head and going with the screaming of every heated fibre of her body, she gave in and melted against him.


	3. Chapter 3

**I apologise for the delay in posting this. One of my bosses pulled on the puppy dog eyes and had me working 5days and 3nights, so any free time I've had I've been pretty much dead (or doing my night course! What has two thumbs and is a glutton for punishment?). **

**Thanks, as always, for the reviews/alerts/favourites to the last chapter, glad you're sticking around! It's always a risk when you get the couple together so early on, but there's plenty of drama to come to hopefully keep you interested. I'm 97.5% sure I've finished writing it now, so it'll be around for a while ;)**

**Song in this chapter is 'Ever the Same' by Rob Thomas. Thanks to Melinda for the rec! x**

**_On with the show..._**

* * *

Stella followed the crowds through the airport arrivals lounge, hitching her hold-all higher on her shoulder. She was stuffing a water bottle back in the pocket, side-stepping a runaway toddler, when she heard her name being called.

She looked around, over the thin crowd of people waiting for loved ones or customers.

"Stella!"

She followed the voice, finally seeing Aaron over the top of everyone else, his height working in their favour. She smiled and pointed to the end of the walkway. He nodded and followed her directions.

"What are you doing here?" she asked as he took the bag from her shoulder. She rolled the joint as the weight was lifted off.

"Took the day off, thought I'd drive you home," he smiled that lopsided smile that made her stomach tighten.

"You didn't have to do that, I'd have caught a cab."

"Why hail a cab when I have a company car?" he grinned and leant into kiss her.

"Company car, eh?" she smiled as she turned her head just a slight so his kiss landed on her cheek.

"Yep, got it yesterday," he said with slight confusion in his brown eyes.

"Congratulations," she smiled. It was only now that her heart sank and guilt took a firm grasp of her gut. She tried to banish them as she reached up to kiss him properly. There was a lot to discuss, but not in an airport and certainly not before she'd spoken to Mac.

"You okay?" he asked, seeing the distant look in her green eyes.

Said eyes snapped to him, "Hmm? Oh, yeah. Tired, I guess. It's been a long few days."

Aaron nodded, "Come on. Let's get you home."

Xx

Stella settled onto the bench with a huff. She hadn't slept well the night before and excused herself from Aaron's company before it meant staying the night.

She fed her combination into the lock and used her feet to swing the metal locker door open, it clanging against the next and sending a satisfying ruckus reverberating around the room.

What had she done? She didn't regret sleeping with Mac (it was like Mac had said that morning, after 16 years, it was bound to happen), but she deeply, deeply regretted how much it would hurt Aaron.

It was getting to her already. Her gut felt like a tonne lead weight had taken up residence and the pain in her shoulder kept her mind not too far from the situation at hand.

Her wrist was aggravating her too. She wrapped her other hand around it, massaging the joint as her mind wandered to how she had come to hurt it.

_The fire alarm was ringing, its siren vibrating in her ear. She looked around, her heart beating out of her chest. Panic was rising, her chest growing tighter, harder to breathe. _

"_Stella.__"__ She spun to the voice, no one there to claim it._

"_Stella.__"__ Mac? __"__Stella, your phone.__"_

"_Oh God,__"__ she moaned, snapping awake. She swiped a hand over the bedside table as Mac turned over, moving his arm from covering her. _

"_I can go off people, you know…" she croaked, after managing to make out 'Nat' on the caller I.D through lidded eyes. _

"_I know, I'm so sorry, but I can't find the Hurst case notes."_

"_Erm…" she wiped a heavy hand over her eyes. "Top drawer, on the left. Under the Slade notes."_

_She could hear shuffling, "Got 'em. Thank you! Return to your slumber."_

"_Mmhmm," she uttered, clicking off. She'd talk to her properly later. _

"_Everything okay?" a low voice asked. _

"_Yeah, couldn't find a file," her head was turned to him but her heavy eyes firmly closed again. _

_He smiled, "You okay?"_

_She slowly opened again, seeing him propped up on an elbow, looking down at her with a lazy smile. "Yeah. You?"_

_He nodded. _

"_You slept," she noted. _

"_I did. We should have tried that method before," he smirked._

_She smiled lightly, her cheeks flushing, suddenly feeling extremely self-conscious and aware of her complete lack of clothing. She wrapped the sheet around herself and sat up, swinging her legs around the bed. Her heart was beating almost painfully fast as she remembered the night before. Everything was irreparably changed now. _

"_Stella," Mac said with some urgency. _

_She stilled, her back still facing him. _

"_Do you…regret last night?" _

_She didn't answer but looked over her bare shoulder to him. _

"_I don't," he continued. "It was bound to happen at some point. It's been 16 years, Stella." He lightly stroked his knuckles down her arm. "I've wanted it to happen for a long time."_

_It hadn't been sixteen years, she told herself, it had been eight. Eight years since Claire had died. His wife. Whatever she may or may not have felt for the man that was null and void by the gold band that still adorned his finger. Still. _

_But his eyes were that unfamiliar shade of green that was mesmirising. Her rod-straight back softened as his eyes bore into her. _

_She__'__d never seen this side of Mac before. Always believed - and fantasised - that it was there, but never thought it could be quite so__…__potent. __"__Mac__…"__ she warned. _

"_Shh__…"__ he breathed, pulling on her wrist until his lips met hers. _

_He was very good at that, she found, as he thread his free hand into her hair and traced his tongue over hers. She moaned against him, inciting him to flip her back onto the bed, her captured wrist above her head. _

_She giggled at the unexpected move, Mac smirked before reclaiming her lips. His other hand trailed down her arm and let the other hand join its twin above her head. __"__Mac__…"_

"Welcome back," a voice announced, breaking her reverie.

Stella's head snapped to the doorway, hoping her cheeks weren't as ruby red as they felt as Nat stood watching her. "Hey. Thanks."

"How was it?"

"As can be expected," she answered, hanging her jacket on the hook.

"And Mac?" Nat asked with a nod.

"As can be expected," she repeated. "Did I miss anything?"

"Nothing huge. I've emailed you stuff you'll need to know."

"Great, thanks."

"I gotta go, Flack's got a suspect downstairs."

Stella nodded with a smile as Nat disappeared. She sat back down on the bench and closed the locker with a foot. It was going to be difficult to keep her thoughts platonic if/when people mentioned Mac.

Xx

He stood in his Mom's bedroom, his eyes falling onto the wedding picture by her bed. His heart was thumping, his breath shallow before a satisfying deep sigh filled his lungs momentarily. The façade was fading. He recognised this feeling.

Xx

"Hey, I'm off," Stella mentioned, poking her head into one of the labs. "Mac's landing soon."

"Okay," Nat smiled. "That was quick."

"You know Mac, married to the job."

"So he's coming back to work?"

"Probably. I'm going to try and talk him into reduced hours."

"And how well do you think that will go down?"

"I can be pretty persuasive, you know?"

"Oh, I do."

Stella laughed, "I gotta go."

The drive to JFK was unnecessarily long and stop-start. It wouldn't have bothered her much usually - she was a born and bred New Yorker, she was more than used to the traffic - but the intermittent need for concentration made her mind wander. The closer she got to the airport, the more anxious she was about how to act around Mac, what to say. Did she hug him? Or would that be to suggestive? What if he kissed her? Should she push him off?

Finally she made it to the maze of lanes surrounding the airport, finding a free space in the short-stay parking lot. She waited with the masses in the arrivals lounge telling herself to stop questioning. This was Mac Taylor. Regardless of the changing state of their friendship he was still the same Mac she'd known for 16years, and the same Mac Taylor who had just lost his mother. That was all she needed to know.

A small stream of travellers started to flow through the double doors; business men with laptop bags over their shoulders and impatient looks on their haggard faces. Grandparents were greeted by hyper children, lovers met with open arms. Then there was Mac.

His demeanour had reverted back to before their encounter. His eyes dark and sunken, his skin sallow and pale, his shoulders hunched as he lugged multiple bags.

"Do some shopping?" she smiled as he made his way to her. He dropped one of the holdalls to the floor with a gentle thud.

"Some of my Mom's things. Aunt Tracy's going to sort what's left," he muttered, releasing himself from her hug.

_Well done, Stella, _she thought. _You thought about that opening line all the way here, and yet you forgot every single possible sentence and opened with THAT._

"Come on," she smiled lightly, swinging the fallen luggage to her own shoulder. "Let's get out of here."

Xx

She parked in the building's garage and killed the engine. "Thanks for this," Mac said, turning in his seat.

"Of course," Stella smiled. She avoided looking at his eyes, not able to trust herself should that certain shade of green look back at her. She leant down, her fingers finding the lever to the trunk.

Mac opened the door and began dragging his suitcases out. "Could you give me a hand upstairs with these?"

"Sure." She stole a look at him while he was focussing in the car. Still tired - he wasn't sleeping again - and still sad - maybe more so.

She grabbed hold of the handles to a holdall and threw it on her shoulder. Mac led the way to the elevator and stood with her in awkward silence as the musak was piped in through tinny speakers. It always annoyed her when she could link the lyrics to the tune but not for the life of her remember the title of the song. _We were drawn from the weeds, we were brave like soldiers, falling down under the pale moonlight. You were holding me like someone broken, and I couldn__'__t tell you but I__'__m telling you now. Just let me hold you while you__'__re falling apart. Just let me hold and we__'__ll both fall down._

Her own lack of sleep was catching up with her, it seemed, when a yawn escaped her, her eyes closing and hand covering her gaping mouth.

Mac stole a look at her. She looked tired - even more so mid-yawn; and her face looked pale in the poor light.

His eyes snapped back to the front as her yawn tapered off.

The carriage jerked to a stop and the two took hold of the luggage as Mac lead the way to the apartment.

"Thanks," he said, his bags making a thud as he dropped them on the kitchen table. "Just put it there."

She followed his direction and set the bag down against the wall. The bash of the door closing made her jump before Mac pinned her against the wall.

His hands her on her waist, his lips strongly fastened to hers. She held onto his shoulders, turning her head away from his kisses as she muttered, "No, Mac."

He caught her lips again, responsive despite the protests. "I thought you didn't regret the other day…" he breathed, travelling to her jaw bone.

"I don't," she managed. He left butterfly kisses down her neck, shuddering under his caresses. He latched onto the sweet spot at her collar bone, the one that almost made her forget her name. Breathless, she managed "Doesn't mean…it should happen…happen again…"

With the last word, she pulled his face back to hers and kissed him furiously, a leg wrapping around his waist.

Xx

"Where are you going?" he asked, stretching his arms above his head, the bed sheet flittering down his chest.

"I gotta go," she muttered, picking up a corner of the duvet and searching beneath the bed. "You seen my…" she waved in the general direction of her body.

He smirked, "Hall."

She narrowed her eyes with a chuckle, before following his instruction. "Found it!" she called back.

Mac folded his hands behind his neck, looking rather happy for himself. Stella's heels clicked across the hardwood flooring of the hall as she went back to the bedroom, leaning against the doorframe. "I gotta go."

He nodded, "You said that."

"I'll talk to you tomorrow," she smirked.

"Or sooner, if you want."

"Alright, Casanova," she called over her shoulder with a wave, her voice giving away the smirk he couldn't see.

It had gone dark as she made it to her car, the building's garage lights needing replacing. She slid a hand into her bag, her fingers wrapping around her piece in automatic precaution.

She sat down in the SUV, clicking the lock as soon as the door shut. "Shit," she breathed, noticing the parking ticket attached to her front window. She started the engine and rolled down the window, stretching an arm for the packet. She must have overstayed her welcome.

_What are you doing, Stella?_ a voice of reason suddenly announced in her head.


	4. Chapter 4

**I couldn't decide where to chapter-ise (What, it's a word!) the next section, so went with here. It's shorter than the previous chapters, but it means the next chapter is that bit longer and** **is the keeper of the drama. **

**Thanks, as always, for reviews/alerts/favourites. Apparently Casanova!Mac went down well, no? x**

* * *

Finally, Mac made it to his office. An onslaught of well-wishers and pitiful looks from afar had lengthened the journey to his office by a good half-hour. A half-hour he would have much preferred to have spent in said office preparing for the day and hiding from said well-wishers.

He closed the door behind him, thankful for the level of soundproof it gave from the outside labs and halls. Hanging his jacket on the hook, he crossed to his desk and fell into his chair with a thud. "Stella…" he murmured under his breath, recalibrating the desk chair back to his own specifications.

With a cleansing breath, he began his day.

He checked over his desk for new arrivals and a method to Stella's own brand of 'filing'. He pushed up a few manila folders, flicked through a few pages and accepted defeat, leaving it to Stella to re-order for his understanding.

Opening the top left drawer to grab the letter opener, he found a definite foreign object. A bright orange and yellow parking ticket packet lay on top of the silver knife, a post-it stuck to it stating "This is down to you. You pay this, I'll get lunch. Your office, Noon. S x"

What Stella was effectively saying was 'we need to talk', but he decided to take it as free lunch with a woman who had begun to haunt his being.

The morning flew by pretty quickly thanks to having the lunch as a light at the end of the tunnel. Stella had been at a scene all morning with Danny and Flack, so they hadn't touched base since her phone calls the night before. She had tried to persuade him to leave a few days before going into work, but he refused, as usual. He wanted the normalcy to return. Needed it too.

Seeing her looped slanted handwriting on the note, he gave a smile. He'd never realised how utterly… captivating and enthralling Stella could be. Or not to the level that he know saw her, at least. The way she… smiled and laughed and melted under his touch… he had never known something so seductive.

With Claire, even when they were in their twenties, it hadn't been so completely intense. This was a downright _need _to see her and feel her and taste her. To have her whispering his name, quivering under his touch.

God, that woman. (A quiet voice from some dark abyss of his mind told him to be rational.)

As if on cue, Stella appeared at the door, her arms heavy with silver cartons. He jumped up from his chair and swung the glass open for her. She squeezed past, the smell of her hair dancing on his nose. "I thought it was lunch not a buffet."

"Always gotta have a choice, Mac. Alfredo or Arrabiata?"

He took a seat on one of the guest chairs as she placed the dishes on the desk, bringing water bottles from under her arm. "…Alfredo."

She passed him two cartons and bottle. "Garlic bread," she identified, sitting down with the left over dishes. "So, how was your morning?"

"Busy. Distracting."

"That can be good," she nodded, peeling off a lid. She toyed at her pasta with her fork, twisting and spinning the tubes absent-mindedly as a silence enveloped them. "Listen, Mac, about yesterday… and Chicago…"

"Stella-"

"No, we have to talk-"

"Stella," he warned again, this time pointing to the door. Stella looked up and followed his direction, seeing Aaron behind the glass.

"Aaron!" she called as he slowly opened the door, his eyes unblinking and hard. "What are- what are you doing here?"

"I _thought _I would treat you to lunch, but…"

Stella's gaze quickly flicked between the two men in her life, every word missing from her vocabulary. Did he hear? What was there to hear, though? Two minutes later and he'd have heard everything. _Oh God, _her mind groaned, her stomach turning to lead. She could feel her cheeks rising in temperature as a blush grew over her skin.

"You still can," Mac interjected, his voice somewhat hurried to break the silence. "This is only from Henri's…"

"Would you not mind?" Aaron smiled.

She breathed. She hadn't realised she hadn't been, but that first breath burned at her lungs, her heart fluttering madly in her chest. "Okay, firstly," Stella said with her hands on her hips, trying to keep her voice neutral but light. "'_only _from Henri's'? Secondly, I _am_ actually here."

Aaron laughed, "I'm sorry, I just wanted to spend some time with you. No offence, Mac."

"None taken. I suppose I have been monopolising her a bit this last week."

"That's fine, and I am sorry about your Mom," Aaron said. Mac's gaze dropped to his lap as he nodded. Aaron continued, "I just want to invoke boyfriend rights."

"As you should," he said with a wave of his hand. The way his gut twisted as he watched Aaron lean over and place a gentle kiss on Stella's lips made him double over and digging his elbows into his knees.

Stella's cheeks flushed ruby as her heart sank to her boots. Some girlfriend she was. Her boyfriend was kissing her in front of her... male equivalent of 'mistress'. Either way, she didn't deserve Aaron's love. She cleared her throat and shot a side glance to Mac.

"Sorry, was that weird for you? Kissing you in front of your boss?" Aaron smiled, running a hand down her arm to and taking her hand in his. "You've gone bright red."

She laughed nervously, "Come on. Let's go if we're going," she spun him around and placed her palms on his back, gently pushing him towards the door. "I'll see you later," she announced pointedly, staring at Mac with dark wide eyes. Their discussion was far from over, and all the more important now.

"You okay?" Aaron asked as they walked to a restaurant. He stroked a thumb over her knuckles of their conjoined hands.

In the short walk from the station, Stella had talked herself into a stupor. She was furious with Aaron for just turning up at the office; for blurring the boundaries between work and play that she fought so hard to keep separate. For kissing her in front of Mac!

But…deep down she knew she wasn't angry with Aaron at all; she was seething with herself. She was abusing his trust and loyalty and his love. She was doing it right under his nose.

She was such a hive of emotions; guilt being the most prominent. But with even that, the excitement was overwhelming. The midnight trysts with Mac; the meetings in secret… even his new found semi-'bad boy' image was excruciatingly exciting.

She told herself that by keeping such a close proximity, she was there to catch him from his eventual fall from the dizzying heights of denial. Secretly she just found it incredibly sexy.

She was nearing forty, for God's sake. This wasn't the behaviour of someone 'her age', and certainly not when one half of the couple was in the throes of grief and definitely not himself. But she'd never felt anything like this before. Not with Aaron, not with Frankie and not even with any of her sexually-peaking college boyfriends. The way Mac would look at her sometimes... Those green eyes she had watched for years convey the passion he felt for victims and cases now looked at her with levels she only imagined he possessed. It was levels of seduction and eroticism she thought only existed in the pages of trashy chick-lit.

"Hey, where are you?" Aaron asked, his voice breaking her from her reverie. He stopped and turned to face her, brushing a rogue curl behind her ear.

"Oh, you know…" she said, trying to find a genuine smile that didn't betray her.

"Yeah, I think I do," he smiled, placing a kiss on her forehead.

Xx

"How'd it go?" Mac asked, watching Stella climb the last step and come to a stop by him. He took in her appearance, gauging her reaction. He couldn't tell if she was exhausted, pissed or heartbroken.

"I hate doing this to him," she whispered with threatening tears, her lips set in a tight line.

He bit back a smile. She hadn't said she wanted it to stop.


	5. Chapter 5

**So, how awesome was last weeks episode? Even if it doesn't fit into this timeline no matter what I do... but at least I have a new image when writing Lily! And who'd have thought it would be Donna Abandondo! (Extra cookies for anyone who knows that reference!)**

**As promised, this chapter is a wee bit longer and more drama filled. Next week's is going to be a bit late, so I hope it'll suffice you until then. **

**Thanks, as always, for reviewing/alerting/favouriting!** x

* * *

The afternoon went by slowly, even with a full inbox of paperwork and cases to work on. Mac had spent a decent portion of the day at his desk with his head buried in his hands, trying to let the office buzz soothe him like it once had.

Now it felt like an incessant din, distracting and constant and infuriating. A lot of things seemed infuriating lately. It felt like every nerve ending was keeping him on edge, ready to snap at the slightest thing. He ignored the fact that the last time he'd felt like that was after Claire had died. He tried to ignore the fact that anything had changed. The only thing different was the definition of his relationship with Stella.

The very woman's voice rose above the noise. It's growing volume had him snapping his head up, seeing her and Danny approaching his office. He gave a start, rustling papers together and switching his computer off.

"Hey boss, we're off," Danny said, keeping hold of the door after Stella.

"Me too," he replied, swinging his arms into his jacket. Stella stood silently, her fingers wrapped around the handle of her bag, it dangling in front of her. She had her dark winter coat buttoned up under her neck, the large collar trapping some of her curls inside.

"Actually, I gotta talk to Adam first. Owes me on a bet," he stood back into the corridor, seeing Adam notice him down the hall and spin on his heels to scutter away. Danny smirked, "See you tomorrow."

Stella managed a smile as he took chase down the hall, calling for their resident lab tech. She breathed a bone-deep sigh, exhaustion written all over her as her eyes closed.

He noticed the complete change in her since just that morning. Her skin was paler and lacking the usual glow to the olive tone; her eyes were dull under heavy lids, seemingly unfocussed no matter the vista.

"Come on," he whispered, a finger tracing along her jaw to release the captured curls from her coat. Her eyes closed at the contact, a semi-content sigh escaping as he cupped a hand at her elbow.

She nodded, following him to the elevators. As they stepped into the carriage she reached for the button to the ground floor, but Mac pushed her hand away pressing for the garage instead. She didn't complain, just waited for the doors to whoosh shut before being pulled into his side.

Her heels clicked against the concrete of the parking garage as she rounded his car to the passenger side. They opened the back doors at the same time, placing their bags on the seats, listening as the noise of their simultaneous closing reverberated around the underground holding.

After she snapped her on her seat belt, She leant back against the headrest, her eyes closing in a futile attempt at rest. Mac turned the heat up against the spring chill and started the engine, peeling out of the lot and into midtown rush hour.

Xx

Stella lay on the bed, her elbow cushioning her head as her knees bent below her. Her breath was slow and rhythmic, though she wasn't sleeping. That was too much to ask for.

A slight thud across the room startled her, her eyes opening to see Mac wiping tea off his dark tee-shirt, the mug held away from him in the other hand. "You chose _there_ to kick off your shoes?"

She smiled dreamily, blinking away the flood of light behind him.

He set the cup down on the bedside table, mentioning, "There's still a drop left," as the bed dipped under his weight. He sat back against the headboard, brushing fallen strands from her face. "How do you feel?"

She didn't answer. She lay there, her eyes falling shut as Mac softly stroked across her temple. It certainly wasn't lost to her that the earlier mantra she had used to calm herself was now just adding to the constant circling of confusion that was her mind.

This was Mac Taylor. The same Mac Taylor she had known for 16years. Who she had fought with, laughed with and cried with through sixteen years of turbulent friendship.

The same Mac Taylor who could melt her with one look; could do things to her body in ways that others could only wish to be as good at; could only sleep when she was near.

She turned her head into the bed covers, groaning in pent up frustration. She couldn't get a second of peace from her own mind twisting and turning and taunting her with recent developments and future consequences. In an instant, she pushed herself up and over Mac, straddling his thighs. "Stella…" he breathed in shock.

"Please, just…" she sighed, her eyes closing as she placed her hands flat on his chest. "I need to not think. I need to shut my brain off." She was almost pleading.

He fed her hair behind her ears, nodding before leaning in to kiss her.

Xx

"Stella!" Nat's voice rang through the maze of offices. She stood in the middle of the hall, pivoting on the spot as she called out with urgency again, "Stella!"

"Natalie!" Stella shouted, her expression asking the unspoken question of 'What the hell?" She stepped out of one of the labs, snapping off a latex glove. "What is it?"

"It's Mac."

The concern and fear that were etched onto her features had Stella race back into the lab and throw her white coat onto the hook. She snapped off the last glove and called "Adam…" with a hurried gesture to the evidence still adorning the layout table.

"I got it," he replied, crossing the table with the same urgency Nat's voice had. "Go."

Natalie explained the situation as they followed the uniforms to a scene. Above the blaring sirens, Stella heard how Mac had "…invited" himself into the middle of sting operation.

Flack had tracked down Charlie Griffiths, lead suspect in the Amelia Marsh case, to an apartment building in Brooklyn. He and his team had surrounded the building with armed response, ready and waiting for fresh reports to filter through. A call came in of possible hostages before a gun shot sounded from a third story window, a divot appearing in a police car bonnet in a shower of sparks.

Before Flack had even managed to regain composure and update dispatch of shots fired, a streak of blue ran in through the open door into the building.

"Who was that?" Flack shouted. "_Who was that?_"

"Taylor!" a voice replied.

"Mac-dammit!" he slammed a fist into his car. "Hold your fire! _Hold your fire_!" He brought his phone to his mouth, the ear piece pointing towards the unfolding incident, informing dispatch in a not-so-calm voice.

Natalie was passing through the police department when she overheard the conversation on a scanner, turning on her heel immediately to find Stella.

"He's gonna kill himself," she muttered under her breath. "Or I'm going to kill him."

"There's a good chance Flack might," Nat voiced, turning to face Stella for a second.

Stella sighed deeply, irritation evident as she raked a hand through her unruly curls. She was out of the car before Natalie had even put the Escalade into park. "Flack!"

"Get him out of there, Stella, I mean it," he warned, his jaw set and eyes wide with anger.

"Have you heard from him?" her eyes scanned over the building.

"Nothing."

Her hands balled into fists at her side, "Give him some time, this could work in our favour."

"What, by getting himself killed? Or worse, _my men_?"

She knew it was only heat of the moment choosing his words, but she didn't dare underestimate Don Flack. "Give him a minute."

They turned to the building. "One minute before I give SWAT the green light."

The silence was deafening. No gunshots, no muffled chatter over a radio, no noise, just that of Stella's shallow breath as she watched every window for some glimmer of anything. "Come on…" she muttered, her hand tapping against the other.

Flack gave SWAT the call to be ready, watching as they moved into a tight line to the side of the entrance.

"Come on…"

"We're coming out!" a faint familiar voice announced. Slow and steady, Mac emerged from the building. Griffiths' limped out slightly in front of him, hands above his head. SWAT pounced on him the second he set foot on the sidewalk, pinning him to the ground as they tied his hands behind his back, screaming order into his ears.

Mac sauntered past the prone suspect to the fleet of blue-and-whites.

Stella had to put her hands flat on Flack's chest to stop him marching straight over to Mac, "Let me."

Had it been anyone else, Flack would have told them where to go, but he knew Stella's temper could rival his own. "Out of order, Stella. He's out of order," he spat.

"Oh, I know." She turned on her heel and marched to where Mac was peeling off the Velcro fasteners to his Kevlar vest. "Mac! What the hell where you thinking?"

"You're over reacting Stella," he practically chuckled, taking a seat on the fender, the vest hanging off his body.

"About which part exactly?" Her hands moved from her hips to wild gesticulation, "About where you jeopardised a vital sting? Where you defied Flack's orders? Or where you nearly got yourself killed?" She was livid, practically bouncing as she spat her words at him, her eyes steel emerald.

"There was no danger, Stella. Do you really think I would put so many people at risk if I didn't think I could help?"

"I really don't know anymore."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

It wasn't the place for that conversation, so she stayed silent, just folded her arms, her foot tapping.

Mac didn't like to be ignored so stood to face her. "What is that supposed to mean, Stella?"

"I means you're not 'you'! You're destructive, you're in denial and you're still grieving."

Mac's eyes went wide. "I'm not 'me'? You're the one who's acting strangely!" He suddenly realised where they were, the amount of ears within listening distance. He dropped his voice, but the level of venom stayed constant. "You are the one who came to my place last night and…" He couldn't think of a diplomatic or cryptic way to finish the sentence.

"You _ass._ Do you have any idea what I am going through?"

"Oh, I thought this was all about me; _my_ problem."

"Screw you." She spat and spun on her heel, stalking past Flack and towards Nat, who was already climbing into her truck and starting the engine.

Mac watched her leave, noting the amount of people who turned to watch Stella go, few risking a glance back to him. He snatched the Kevlar vest off himself and threw it into the truck, it bouncing from the exalted rage. He slammed the door shut and climbed into the drivers seat, peeling away from the scene at speed.

Stella's hand was combed into her hair, her fingers bent and almost digging into her scalp as she ran through a million different things she wanted to shout at Mac Taylor. Her jaw was set and her eyes hard and unfocused on the varying views before her. How could he have changed so much in just a few hours? A complete one-eighty in just nine hours.

Nat stole looks to her trying to gauge the level of Stella's temper. She was going to go with… LOSA Two, using the lab techs' code to decide. LOSA Two - Level Of Stella Avoidance - meant hide weapons and approach with serious caution (wearing a cup if at all possible). When they turned into stationary traffic, she decided to try a conversation. "…You okay?"

She just got a snort in reply.

"What did he say?"

"He said plenty." She shook her head in barely suppressed rage.

"I see…" Nat muttered, deciding the abort the mission and return her attention to the unmoving road and radio.

Once they had pulled into the garage, Stella uttered thanks and disappeared through the door for the stairs. Despite the temperature in the stair wells, she couldn't be still for a moment longer. The thought of standing there in a carriage for thirty-eight floors after sitting in a car in midday traffic for nearly an hour only added to the frustration she felt.

She took the cement stairs two at a time for a few floors before the burn in her legs became too much and took them at a normal rate. It was level 18 before she opened the door and found the elevator instead. Her head was clearer, she knew exactly what she was going to say to him next time she saw him, but she hoped that wasn't soon. The things she wanted to say were not for repeating in a lab full of gossiping eyes and ears.

She did see him later that afternoon. He walked past her office, the same saunter in his step from the Brooklyn warehouse. He stopped at the door, his hand hovering over the handle before deciding against it and walking away. She was thankful. Though her head might have been clearer, her blood was still boiling.

She spent some of the rest of the afternoon in the morgue with Sid, pouring over details of the DB from the case she was working with Danny. She collected the bags of new evidence from his trays and made her way back upstairs in search of Adam, finding Nat at his station instead. "Hey, where is he?"

"I was wondering when you'd get here…"

"Excuse me?" she asked, placing the bags on the counter and rolling her shoulder, the joint aching again.

"You…haven't heard?" Nat crossed the desk, laying her hands on her hips as her eyes relayed annoyance. "Mac went off on him. We're talking shouting, fists slamming… LOMA One." She clenched her jaw before continuing. "I managed to call him off, not without an earful of my own, and he disappeared off somewhere."

Stella's own jaw set as her frustration and temper rose again. "Where is Adam now?"

"I told him to take a break. He's just a kid, Stel. Not someone who can handle that off someone, especially not off Mac. He worships the guy! You should have seen him…"

"Where's Mac?"

"I don't know, and right now I don't care. He shouldn't be here, Stella. I appreciate he's in mourning and not himself, but he should not be here if that is how he's going to act."

"I'll sort this," Stella promised, spinning on her heel and marching through the halls. She sighed - it felt like that was all she did anymore - as she kept scanning the labs for any sign of him. Natalie was right, Mac wasn't ready to be back to work, but no matter how many times she told him so, it didn't make a blind bit of difference. He was so infuriatingly stubborn! She almost chuckled, she'd heard that about herself once or twice.

His behaviour was so erratic lately. One minute he'd be up and smiling and snarking (and flirting), then next he could be so…not himself. She was worried to say the least. She was nearing his office when Danny shouted her name. He was stepping out of Mac's office, fear billowing from his eyes. "Stella! Its-It's Mac. I…" he shrugged, his gestures non-committal but worrisome. She trotted the final distance as he was digging in his pocket, announcing "I'm calling an ambulance."

Stella looked through the glass walls as she approached, watching as Mac grabbed at the collar of his shirt, dragging it away from his neck as he stumbled about his office. He face was red, purple under some lights, and his eyes bulging. "Don't."

"Stella, he-"

"Don't. Just give us a minute," she said calmly as she stepped into the room. Mac crashed onto the floor, papers scattering as his hand fell from his desk. She looked back to Danny, "He'll be fine, I promise. No medics." She shut the door behind herself, coolly walking about the windows and closing each blind. "Come on now, Mac. You know what to do."

"Stella-" he rasped.

She circled back to him as he sat with his back against a filing cabinet. His breathing was laboured and gulped, his blue shirt darkened as it absorbed the streams of sweat pumping from his body. She knelt beside him, "Calm down… shh…" she whispered, placing a hand on his chest, the other entwining with his fingers. His heart was racing, almost beating out of his chest. "You've been here before, Mac. You know what's happening. Shh…" She stayed there, whispering in a calm voice, as Mac's grip on her hand tightened.

Eventually, his breathing calmed. His face returned to a normal pallor and his heart rate slowed. She pulled away as he leant forward to his knees, his head resting against his arms as he tried to relax. Feeling the cool metal against her back as she rested against a different side of the cabinet, she willed her own heart to stop beating so quickly. Her soothing voice was disguising her own building panic as Mac had struggled to settle. "Not had one of those in while."

He shook his head, it crashing back to the cabinet with a dull thud.

"You okay?"

"I am now. Thank you," his voice was husky after the exertion.

"You know what that means, don't you?" she muttered. Not receiving an answer, she swung back around into his view. He was trapped now, blocked into a corner where he would have to listen to her. "Mac, your Mom died. Last week. I know you _think _you're invincible, but your emotions rule you, no matter how much you try to hide them." Her fingers stroked those of his hand that braced against the floor. "You're doing too much of everything else, and not enough of what you actually need to : grieving. Look at you, you're back at work full time, you're bawling at Adam and nearly getting yourself killed by Flack. And, well… you and me. That's too much for anyone to handle. Just… just slow down. Please."

She couldn't tell if he was annoyed or embarrassed. His eyes looked away from her to the computer screen behind his desk showing a picture of the New York skyline, the actual vista blocked by closed blinds. "I'm fine."

"_No, _you're _not,_" the anger was beginning to rise again. "This is exactly what I'm talking about, Mac. You're not thinking straight-"

She was cut off by Mac standing and stepping over her, spitting "I'm fine," again. The tone of his voice screamed 'end of conversation'.

She sighed in defeat. "Fine." She got up and straightened her shirt, "But you owe an apology to Adam." With that, she swung the door open and stalked out, nearly mowing Danny down in her wake.

"Whoa, Stel. Is he alright?" He asked, craning his neck to see through the closing door.

"He's 'fine'," she said with disdain at the quote.

"What's going on with him, Stella?"

She sighed, "He's reverted back to high school, that's all." She looked around the hall, noticing a few people were looking to see why Mac's office was blocked out. She gestured to the empty break room and lead as Danny followed her. "What happened, before the panic attack?"

"Is that what that was? Damn, I thought it was a heart attack or something," he said with an exhale as he perched on a chair. "I took him the file he'd been wanting from Adam. It was my fault Adam didn't have it to give to him, I took it this afternoon. I, er, might have said a bit of my mind while I was in there though. Just that he was out of order to go off on Adam like that. Then…" he waved his hand, gesturing she knew the story from there.

She nodded, "Alright. You did nothing wrong, Danny. Neither did Adam. You _and_ Mac are working that case, you had every right to get the results."

"What about Mac?"

"I really don't know at the moment," she said, her jaw setting and gaze growing distant.

Danny hopped off the chair and left Stella to her musings. She pulled a hand up to rake it through her hair, the pain in her shoulder stopping her progress.


	6. Chapter 6

**A million apologies for the tardiness of the chapter. It's even later than I had imagined, unfortunately. So is life. **

**Only one more chapter after this one. Thank you so so much for sticking with it, I've really enjoyed writing it and loved even more that you're enjoying reading it. **

**As always, thank you for reading/alerting/favouriting. Hope you enjoy the longest chapter to date! xx**

* * *

There was a storm brewing, there was no doubt. The pastel yellow curtains billowed out into the dark room before being sucked back and out the open window. Stella let a smile play across her lips as the damp and musky smell of oncoming thunder and rain filled the room with the next float of the swinging curtains.

She threw her covers off and padded over to the window. Try as she might, sleep was not happening this night. She looked up to the moon, it smirking high above the swirling grey clouds; he was loving this as much as she was.

Instant memories of childhood flashed before her, eliciting another smile. Suzie climbing into her bunk at St. Basil's and pulling the duvet over their heads as they giggled by flashlight, counting Mississippi's between lightning and thunder, then silencing whenever Sister Russell's shoes squeaked through the halls.

She swatted the still surging curtain from her face as the rain began to fall. She crossed her arms on the ledge and leant over, listening to the thunder rumble in the distance.

Her thoughts ran over the day, once again. What was she going to do with him?

She remembered the falsetto of his heart beat beneath her hand, it beating a hyper rhythm, her own heart gaining similar pace the longer it took him to relax. It had been a long time since he'd had an attack, longer since one that bad. Coupled with his behaviour to Adam and the way he spoke to her in his office… he was teetering on the edge.

A flash of lightning illuminated the sky and her bedroom, breaking her from her reverie as her eyes shot for a look at the bolt.

The rain was pelting down now, the sky angry and tumultuous. She opened the window further, the cool breeze raising goose-pimples over her arms. She ignored a shiver that ran through her body as she watched the raindrops slide down the glass pane, connecting and quickening before splashing onto the ledge, her arms dotting with the water.

She sighed deeply, the breath hitting her arm and sending the splashes rolling. Why had she bitten? Why couldn't she keep her temper in check for once and not argue with him? She imagined what he was doing now, wondering if he was watching the storm; wondering if he was crouched under a CD player blasting out Black Sabbath to block his mind from reminding him of deaths. Like before. Something, he once explained, he had learnt in the Marines.

Another flash of lightning.

Another clap of thunder.

She tilted her head to the sound. Something was off with the last clap. She stilled, listening. There was a knock at the door. She spun to the clock, it was after 2am. Mac, she decided. She threw a robe over her NYPD tee and sweat pants and meandered to the door, casting a glance to the bag by the door - where her handgun was - in case. She peered through the peep-hole, seeing Mac on the other side. She studied him for a second - a hand raking through his short hair, collar left open, suit jacket soaked and dripping from his shoulders; he looked like hell. And he was looking right at her.

"Hi," he said as she opened the door, stood in its path.

"Hi," she repeated, standing to the side. His head bowed as he stepped past her. He turned back to face her, his back arched, eyes sunken and dark. "You look like hell," she announced, as he dug his hands in his pockets.

He didn't say anything. She sighed gently at the broken image before her. She passed him in to the bathroom, her fingers brushing against his arm, asking "How did you get here?"

"Walked," he replied, taking the towel from her as she returned.

"That's 15 blocks!" she said, moving into the kitchen, putting the kettle on.

"Needed to clear my head," he said in a monotone, fatigued voice, rubbing the towel over his hair and down his rain soaked face.

"You couldn't do that in a cab?" a light mocking tone to her voice.

He managed a smile, it not quite reaching his eyes. Her smile faded back to worry.

She spooned cocoa powder into the cups, stirring as she added the water and milk. She guided him to the couch, setting the cups on the table and helping him peel the wet blazer from his arms. She smiled as they sat down, pointing to the wet triangle down his front, the white shirt going transparent to the vest below. He swiped at the patch, as if to brush the wetness away.

Stella settled into the overstuffed cushion, the cup clasped between both hands and waited.

Mac leant forwards, barely on the seat, elbows digging into his thighs. His fingers fidgeted between his legs; twisting, splicing, picking. He lifted them up, raking them through his shorn hair, down his pale face. His heel tapped against the floor, his knee shaking. Not a word left his lips. Occasionally he looked like he knew where to start, but the sounds died before escaping. He stared at the steam flittering from the mug before him, a deep, heavy sigh dissipating the tendrils.

Stella gave a quiet frustrated sigh as he reached out to his arm, gently tugging on it. He resisted at first, before giving in and sliding down, his head hitting her lap.

He'd never let her do that before. The amount of times she had wanted to have him just give in and let himself be, well, mothered by her, but he had always kept a certain amount of distance. As happy as she was that he was letting her stroke his temples and swirl the hair behind his ear around her finger, it hurt her that he had hit a new 'low' in his grief.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "You didn't deserve that this morning."

"No," she agreed, with a smile. She would have forgiven him without the apology.

His shoulders hunched in a short soundless chuckle. His next breath ended in a long sigh, much like the one before but with an element of contentedness as he closed his eyes to the ministrations she was performing around his ears. "I'm not sleeping. I know that's not an excuse, but… it's the best I've got. I can't turn off. Names, words, memories, it's constantly going through my head. If I close my eyes, I see faces and replays and it's all louder and…"

"Shh…" she soothed, feeling him tense beneath her. The forgotten thunder storm still raged behind them, the lightening reflected through the television set in the corner. She drew circles on his temple until she noticed his breathing had evened out, his chest rising in a slow and steady pattern.

She smiled. He was sleeping. He was hardly in a comfortable position, she noted, one leg curled while the other lay straight and over the other side dangling in mid-air, but he was resting at least. She set her cup down on the table to her side, continuing to draw shapes on his skin until she too fell asleep.

Xx

Mac groaned against his will as he tried to sit upright, waking Stella in the process. "You okay?" she croaked, her neck slowly and painfully turning to look at him.

"Back's gone," he groaned again, his hands pressing deeply into the small of his back, arching it backwards.

"Not surprised," she smirked, noting a return of colour to his cheeks. She looked over to the wall clock, squinting through the sleep that filmed her eyes for the time. "It's only four. At least the thunder's stopped," she massaged her cricked neck. "Come on, let's go to bed."

Mac stripped to vest and boxers as Stella closed the window, pulling the curtains closed as yet another groan escaped him as his aching back molded to the mattress.

"Better?" she asked with a smirk, getting a nod in return as his eyes closed to the subtle cracking of his spine.

She climbed in next to him, settling into the crook of his neck, her hand splayed across his chest. She sighed contentedly as she watched her hand rise and fall from his calmed breaths, stealing a look at his face.

He was staring at the dark sky, no hint of morning sun due for hours yet. He could feel her eyes on him and turned to face her with a crooked half-smile. She rested her chin on her hand, stroking a finger down his temple. "What you thinking?"

He sighed heavily. "I'm thinking of going back to Chicago for a bit. See the family."

"That's a great idea, Mac. Really," she smiled, happy he was giving in to his emotions and letting himself grieve.

"Yeah. I think I need it. Just…be with Mom's things," he looked back out to the window.

Stella gazed at his face in the street light, at the fine lines that had gained mates in the recent years. Even the recent weeks, it almost seemed. She watched as his eyes twitched, scenes playing out before them for the single viewer. She stroked her fingers down his cheek, breaking him from his reverie. "What?"

"Just… just thinking of my Dad. He told me in no uncertain terms that Claire and I were to move out here. Not sure how happy Mom was about the decision. I always felt bad leaving her to care for Dad on her own. He was so stubborn that he couldn't accept that he was dying. He hated being so incapable, dependant. Then, after he died, Claire and I were still in New York and she was in that big house on her own."

"She was hardly on her own, Mac. Granted, her baby boy wasn't around, but her nephews and nieces were there. And from what I hear, Sal's kids became her grandkids. She lived a happy life, Mac. She was surrounded by family, and the highlight of her life was you. Her baby boy making the country safer as a Marine, then as a cop. You have no reason to feel an ounce of guilt, and I can just imagine what she'd be saying to you if she knew you were."

He smiled wistfully, many examples coming to mind. "Yeah, I know," he sighed heavily, tucking a fallen curl behind her ear.

"So, you leave tomorrow?"

"Yeah. I'll find an afternoon flight, I wanna come into work in the morning."

"Mac-"

"To apologise. To Adam and Danny."

"…Natalie and Flack and…" She smirked as his eyes closed, the full impact of his actions hitting him.

"I might need an evening flight…"

She laughed, tucking her head back into his neck. "What about when you get back?"

He breathed deeply, "Take it slow, see what happens."

"…and us?"

"That's what I was talking about. We couldn't just go back to being friends, Stella, it's changed too much. And honestly, I don't think I'd want it to. You've been amazing these last few weeks, there for me through everything whether I deserved it or not. _I_ don't want to lose this, so it's up to you now."

She sighed lightly, her fingers running over the tramlines of his ribbed vest. "I don't want to lose this either."

Xx

"Hey, where've you been?" Nat asked, falling into step with Stella in the busy halls.

"I'm sorry I'm late, we had a blackout last night, threw my alarm clock out of whack."

"We?" she asked with squinted eyes.

"…my building," she said, pulling files from under Nat's arm and quickly flicking through the pages. She'd received a worried call from her colleague and raced out the door, leaving Mac in her bed. She decided that was on a need to know basis.

"Oh, okay, it was a bad storm. Anyway, I've spoken to Flack about the Griffiths case, he reckons they have a lead on him and he's gonna check it out later on. As for the Doozey case," she rifled through the pages in Stella's hand, "Sid has some updates for you. Asked you to go see him."

"On my way. Thanks, Nat." She turned on her heel to head for the bank of elevators, only for Natalie to call her back.

"Hey, you heard from Mac? How is he?"

"He's doing better. Coming in later. Not to work," she clarified, seeing Nat's demeanour change, "he wants to apologise to everyone, so be expecting a visit. So Natalie? Be nice."

"I'm always nice!"

"Mmhmm…" Her pursed lips morphed to a smirk as Nat pulled her tongue out. She slipped her hand into the closing elevator doors and hit for the morgue.

Her morning raced into the afternoon after revelations from Sid blew the new case wide open. She locked herself away in the labs attending to the evidence and data, checking her phone often. He hadn't called. He said he would once he landed in O'Hare around three-ish. It was nearing four and nothing. Something was wrong, she knew it.

She snapped off her latex gloves and packed the evidence away in the boxes, storing them in the cupboards. She thumbed in his speed-dial and listened as the 'call could not be completed' again, her heart slamming against her rib cage as she hung her lab coat on the hook. Mac would have called by now, or at least let her know he was safe. According to Adam he left before noon, giving him plenty of time to get to the airport and make his flight. No, something was up.

"Stella," Danny called, weaving through the halls. "You heard any more from Flack?"

"Flack? No. Why?" she stuffed her cell in her jeans pocket.

"The Griffiths case. The hostages?" he prompted, folding his arms across his chest as he bounced on his toes.

"Hostages?"

"You… don't know? Flack tracked the lowlife down to a brownstone in Brooklyn, but things turned sour once the uni's showed with sirens. Griffiths' locked himself in one of the apartments with a family, it's all kicking off from what I heard."

"Oh God…" she muttered under her breath. "Mac…"

"Mac? I thought Mac was goin' Chicago."

"He is. Or was, I haven't heard from him," she pulled her phone out of her pocket, "Where in Brooklyn?"

Stella floored the CSI vehicle to the address Danny relayed, trying to call Mac's phone to get some answers as to why she was breaking the speeding limit. The lack of replies made her throw the rule book out the window and slam the pedal to the floor.

She screeched to a stop at the barricade, the uniforms parting as she ran through them with her badge at eye level. "Flack!" she called, trotting up to the man in charge.

"Stel? What are you doing here?" he spun to her, arms still clasped across his chest, radio in hand.

"What's happening?"

"Griffiths got released this morning thanks to Daddy's lawyer. Went home, tweaked a bit and came here for a drug buy, taking some hostages for fun. We're in the process of negotiating."

"How many?" she looked to the seemingly normal building – fire escapes, flower boxes – her lips in a tight line as she expected the worst. "Hostages. How many?"

"Three, as far as we can tell. It's still the early stages." He watched her bouncing on her heels."Stella, what is it?"

"I think Mac's in there."

"What? I thought he'd gone back to Chicago?"

"I can't get hold of him. He was supposed to phone me when he landed two hours ago. The plane got there but he wasn't on it according the airline."

"And that means he's in there?" he thumbed to the unnervingly quiet building. "He could have just missed it, Stel. He's probably on the later flight right now."

"No, he'd have told me. Trust me, something's wrong." Her hard eyes bore into his, jaw s firmly, her voice breaking just a slight.

"Okay," he nodded, touching a hand to her arm. He brought the radio to his mouth and began barking orders into it of the latest developments. "I repeat, possible officer involved."

Stella stood to the side, pulling up Nat's number on her phone as she bounced on her toes. "Nat? How's the trace on Mac's cell coming?"

"I'm not getting anything current, but I can tell you it last pinged around Bensonhurst, Brooklyn. Where are you?"

"Bensonhurst, Brooklyn." She clicked off, her nails tapping a rhythm on the shell as she scanned the suddenly expanding crowd of officers responding the possible 10-13.

Suddenly, an almighty crack rang above the radio chatter. Instantly recognizing the sounds of gunfire, Stella ducked and ran for cover behind one of the lined up police cars, her head spinning over the unfolding melee.

"Officer down! _We got an officer down_! Get EMT over here!" Flack shouted from two cars away, his face contorted with equal measures fear and anger. "_Now_!"

Stella ran over to him, dropping to the floor by the injured officer, noting the blood pumping from his bicep. She pulled her sweater from her shoulders and wrapped it tightly around the wound, "You're okay," she soothed, trying to keep the young officer still as shock and disbelief had him fidgeting. "Hey, hey, you're okay."

"EMT's stuck in traffic," someone shouted to Flack.

"Go," Stella told him, pushing him away. She turned her attention back to her patient, helping him sit up against a patrol car. "What's your name, kid?"

"Serrano," he breathed, his face tight with pain as he pressed at his arm. "Ollie Serrano."

"Ollie, I'm Stella. I got you, okay? Medic's are on their way, be here any second. I'm just gonna take a look okay?" she stepped over him to the side of the injured limb. He nodded through gritted teeth as she peeled her blood-soaked sweater from around the open wound, watching it ooze dark red. "Okay," she breathed, covering it again and pressing firmly. "Okay, it's not as bad as it looks. Just think about all those nurses who'll be fawning over you for the next few days, eh?"

He managed a chuckle through tightly set jaw. "Don't think my wife'll like that as much."

She smiled, running a hand over his sweaty cheek as he slammed his head back against the car. An ambulance siren pierced through the elevated voices and panic that was setting in. "Speaking of the cavalry…"

Ollie swung his head to see the bus negotiate itself through the crowd, fellow officers moving precariously parked vehicles out the way.

It pulled to a stop just after them, two hi-vis jackets jumping out the front seats and running towards the injured party. "Stella?"

She looked up to find Aaron looking down at her with wide and worried eyes.

"Are you okay?" he crouched next to her, hands clasping her face.

"I'm fine," she promised with a small smile. "I'm fine, this is his," she lifted her bloodied hands up.

He closed his eyes in relief, leaving a lingering kiss to her forehead.

"Aaron?" his colleague asked, opening out his bag of supplies and pulling out gauze and scissors. "You with us?"

"Yeah, sorry," he pulled away, pulling latex gloves over his fingers. "There's a bottle of water in the front, go wash your hands off," he told Stella.

She nodded a thanks and turned back to Ollie. "You're in good hands, Serrano. I'll come see how you're doing later."

He uttered "Thank you," through gritted teeth.

"How is he?" Flack asked, trotting up and opening the ambulance door for her.

"He'll be okay," she gestured to the water bottle in the cup holder. "He'll need surgery to get the bullet, but not too much damage from what I could see." She told him as Flack poured the water over her wringing and rubbing hands, a pool of red liquid forming at their feet.

"Good. I got SWAT on the facing buildings; they're not seeing Mac and can't get a clean shot on Griffiths. I'm going in, you're welcome to join."

"I'm there."

She ran over to her truck and pulled her Kevlar jacket over her body, stuffing another magazine into her pocket. "Ready?" Flack asked, checking the chamber of his gun and slotting it back into its holster.

"Ready." She followed him through the barricade and trotted with ducked heads and quick feet to the doors of the building. With a rapid look around the corner, Flack led the way to the apartment where Griffiths was holding the hostages.

They approached quietly, killing the noise from their radios. Flack had already warned SWAT to keep an eye on him for a signal should the face-to-face negotiating not work. With a deep soothing breath and look to Stella, he called out to the closed door to the side of him. "Charlie Griffiths! Detective Don Flack. I'm coming in, okay?"

"No! No, stay where you are!" came a reply with shuffling feet and muffled sobs.

"I'm just going to open the door," Flack said, moving an arm to the door handle, turning it easily and pushing it open. He spun around the corner, gun aimed at Griffiths. "Hi, Charlie."

"I told you to stay where you were!" the junkie shouted, arm tightening around the neck of his hostage; a young girl of sixteen if that.

"I want to chat, Charlie. Can't do that through a door, now can we?"

"I don't want to _chat, _pig. I just want everyone to disappear and to go home."

"Okay, I can help you with that. I can. But first, we have to let the girl go."

"No way, man. Insurance."

Flack stepped closer, casting a quick glance to a petrified woman in the corner, and Mac Taylor covering her. "Mac. You okay?"

"I'm fine, Flack."

"Good. That's good, Charlie. No one's hurt."

"Up here. What about down there?"

"Well, I got one officer with a bullet in his arm, so not so good."

Griffiths looked happy for himself.

"But it's up here that I'm more worried about. How about we let the girl go. What's your name, sweetheart?"

"A-Ana."

"Hi, Ana. I want you to stay calm, alright? You're doing a great job. Just keep watching my partner, okay?"

Stella came into view.

"_What_? What's she doing here? How many more are there?" Griffiths panicked, pressing the barrel of the gun harder into Ana's temple, eliciting a sob from the frightened girl and her mother near Mac.

"No more up here. Just me and Stella," Flack said, more for Mac's benefit. "So, how about it Charlie? You gonna let Ana go?"

"No way, man. Like I said, insurance."

"What do you need insurance for?"

"What do I- How about shooting that friend of yours, eh? And him?" he pointed to Mac with the gun, before pressing it back to Ana's head. "That enough for ya?"

"I don't think anything is enough for putting a gun to a kid's head, Charlie. Why don't you give me the gun? Give me the gun and we'll all walk out of here together." Flack edged closer, crossing one foot over the other and walked to the side, making Griffiths mirror his actions. "Keep watching Stella, Ana."

"Never gonna happen, pig," Griffiths spat.

"I was hoping I wasn't gonna have to do this, Charlie. I was hoping we could settle this amicably."

Griffiths gun spun to be pointed at Flack, but in that instant Flack jumped back out of the way with an arm in the arm in the air. Stella reached out and grabbed Ana from Griffiths grasp as he fell to the floor with a dull thud, blood spurting up the wall.

Stella held a sobbing Ana tightly to her chest as Flack crouched to the body of Charlie Griffiths, pulling the gun from his dead fingers.

"Ana!" a frantic voice screamed as the other woman in the room pulled the young girl from Stella, wrapping her arms around her and kissing every inch of her face.

Flack heaved a sigh as he took in the sight of Griffiths' spinal column spattered up the wall, a gaping hole where his face used to be. SWAT had been right on target, aiming for the top lip – taking that out meant no reflex reaction to the trigger of the gun. Instant death with minimal fall out.

"Stella," Mac breathed, as he wrapped an arm around her waist.

"Oh thank God," she uttered, pulling him in tight. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. He got me in the CSI garage, knocked me out before I could do anything."

"I knew it. I knew something was wrong," she pulled back, cupping his face. She sighed heavily, a maternal 'What am I going to do with you?' look across her features as she looked into his grateful green eyes.

"I'm gonna get Ana to EMT," Flack said, pulling them from their reverie. "Glad you're okay, Mac."

"Thank you, Don," he smiled, letting go of Stella to tightly shake his hand. "You did a good job."

Flack just nodded, the shadow of another notch on his gun etched across his dark expression.

"Come on, we'll get you looked at too," Stella smiled, following Flack and Ana and her other from the apartment.


	7. Chapter 7

**Well, here we go, final chapter. Thank you SOSO much every one who's read, alerted and favourited over the weeks. I have really enjoyed writing this one, and reading your views on it. This has been part of my life since April and took a serious hold when my Nan passed away in May, from when I could write Mac's experiences at the funeral from first hand knowledge. **

**Thank you to everyone I've spoken to over the few weeks too; the people who have theorised with me and helped form and re-form sections. Couldn't have done it without you!**

**I have a few more 'Beasts' in the works, so I'll be working on them over the next few months. Hopefully see y'all back? :)**

**Enjoy xxx**

* * *

"I'm fine, I don't need any medical attention."

"You said you got knocked out, Mac, just let them give you a once-over, okay? Humour me?"

He nodded in defeat as they made it out of the building, into the fresh open air.

"And don't think I've missed that limp you're sporting," she looked at him half-accusatory, half-worried. She'd never wanted to kiss him or hold him more than she did right now, but now was certainly not the time nor place. She looked over his face as they fell into step; he almost looked peaceful! More than she'd seen him to be in months. She gave him a quizzical look as she ducked under his arm, settling it over her shoulders as she supported his weight.

"Must have fallen on it when he knocked me out," he gave a frustrated snort at being caught out from behind, and for needing Stella's support for his aching ankle.

Stella settled her hand on his chest as she guided him to the ambulance, sitting him down on the tailgate. They both frowned at the loss of contact but kept their eyes locked together as the paramedics crossed over to them.

"How we doing over here?" One of them asked, a name badge reading 'M. Spencer'. It was only when he stepped in front of Mac that Stella noticed Aaron staring at her, expression ranging from confusion to hurt.

"Doesn't look like you're going to need stitches," Mac was told, his eyes seeking out Stella when the EMT moved away. He followed her eyeline to see Aaron, their gazes locked in silent conversations.

She opened her mouth to talk but Natalie bounding up cut her off before she began. "Oh Mac! Oh, thank God," she threw her arms around him in an awkward hug. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Thank you," he smiled, his eyes shooting back to Aaron and Stella.

Aaron blinked, swallowing down a dry throat before extending a hand towards Nat. "You must be Natalie. I'm Aaron. Nice to meet you."

Her eyes lit up. "Stella's Aaron? Hi! Wow, _very _nice to meet you," she shook his hand, flashing a look of approval to Stella, only now noting the worry - guilt? – etched on her features. It gave her a start, "So, erm, is he really fine? He has a tendency to fib about these things…" she laughed nervously, failing at lightening the aura around the group.

"He'll be fine."

"Good. That's good," her eyes shot to the dumbstruck Stella trying to gauge what she had walked into. Once her friend's eye line hit the floor, Nat decided to give her an escape plan from the situation. "Danny and Adam are on their way to process the scene, why don't you get Mac home?" She turned to Mac, "And actually home to rest, not to work. You're to stay out of trouble, y'hear?" she gave a nervous laugh again.

"Yeah, I will, thanks," Stella said once she'd snapped herself back to reality. She turned back to Aaron, trying to keep her voice as light as she could muster. "I'll, er, see you later?"

"I think that's wise," she got as a reply.

She nodded, her lips tightly drawn together.

Spencer passed Mac some aspirin for the inevitable headache and muscle strain. He stuffed them in his pocket with a muttered thanks and tried to push himself off the tailgate. Stella tucked herself under his arm, avoiding Aaron's burning gaze, and helped him to the car with a small smile to Nat.

"So, they've worked together long?" Aaron asked, watching after the couple as Mac hopped into the front seat, minimal pressure on his sore joint. Stella tucked her hair behind her ear as she crossed in front of the truck. Her eyes locked with Aaron's as she climbed behind the wheel and started the engine.

"Oh yeah," Nat smiled awkwardly, "They're really lucky to have each other. Been through a lot together."

Aaron wondered just how much.

Xx

Stella slowed to a stop at the traffic lights, the first set away from the commotion of the building and law personnel of the scene.

He took her hand from the wheel, leaning over to cup her face and kiss her. She melted into his touch, her hand squeezing his.

"Are you okay?" he asked against her lips.

"Ask me again later," she frowned, seeing Aaron's hurt face behind her eyes once again. "What about you?"

"I'm fine. In fact, I'm great and I really mean that. Like…it was a wake-up call. I had some time to think when I was up there and I realized just how stupid I've been lately." He squeezed her hand and stroked his fingers down her cheek, "And how much I don't want us to fall back to old habit. I really care for you, Stella."

She kissed him again, smiling against his lips. "I really care for you too." The lights changed before she could kiss him again.

They travelled in silence for a while, a smile constantly playing at her lips.

"Thank you."

She flashed a look over to him.

"For knowing something was wrong."

She reached out for his, squeezing it tightly.

Xx

"Flack," Stella called out as the doors to the Police Dept. swung shut behind her. He relaxed back in his chair as she made her way over to his desk. "How's Officer Serrano?"

"Removing the bullet as we speak, they say he'll make a full recovery though. Half the squad's in the waiting room."

"For Serrano or the nurses?"

He had to think about that one, tapping his fingers on his chin as his eyes gazed in the distance with mischievousness glinting in the blue.

She smirked, "How about an easier one; do we know anything more? Why Mac?" she slid down into the spare seat.

"Ha a candid conversation with his lawyer," he leant forward on the desk, "actually a nice guy. For a lawyer. He said Griffiths wasn't too appreciative of the arrest yesterday, particularly how it went down with Mac barging in. Blames him for the cuts and bruises and the spot on his otherwise stellar criminal record of minor felonies.

"CCTV has Griffiths leaving here at 9am from where his lawyer dropped him off at home. He had a chat with Tina," he explained, choosing the street slang for crystal meth, "and set off back here. We got footage of him pistol-whipping Mac from behind and shoving him in the trunk of Mac's SUV. He drove out to his dealer's place in Bensonhurst, but the genius screwed up. There's a known dealer in apartment 323, but Einstein broke his way into 232; the home of Maya Roze and her daughter Ana, both well and thank us and Mac for our efforts"

Stella shook her head, the absurdity of the situation sinking in; of how close they were to really losing Mac. "How are you holding up?" She knew how much he hated adding to the notches on his gun.

"Part of the job, Stel"

Xx

Stella set about to the left over evidence from the Doozey case when she reached the lab floor. Natalie and the guys would be working on the latest Griffiths evidence, so she decided to finish her abandoned cases from that afternoon.

The sound of doors whooshing open gave way to the sight of Natalie backing into the layout room, arms heavy with evidence boxes. "Oh, hey, didn't know you was back."

"Just in."

"How's Mac?" she asked, her voice straining as she listed the boxes onto the tables.

"Doing well- possibly best yet actually. I left him resting," she tried to keep the knowing smile from her lips.

"Good," she replied, slotting the boxes into the cupboards the lined the walls. "So… that was Aaron…"

Stella nodded, her face paling.

"He seems nice."

"He is."

Seeing the suddenly distant look in her friend's eyes, Natalie put the last box away and shut the doors, circling the desk to lean against it next to Stella. "You know, I have this friend," she folded her arms across her chest. "We'll call her 'Bella'.

Stella licked her lips in amusement, waiting for Nat to continue.

"Now, she seemed to have the weight of the world on her shoulders, and for whatever reason didn't think she could share her problems with me. Her friend. Her _very _understanding friend. But that was okay, as long as she knew that I was there and that I'd never seen her more happy than I have in recent weeks. _Had. _Than I_ had_ in recent weeks," she offered a weak smile at her slip-up. "And that if the reason for this new-found happiness was a guy called 'Jack', well, I was even more happy for her." She laid a hand on Stella's arm with a wink and left the room.

Stella called after her before the door closed, Nat turning back, "What happened? With Bella and Jack?"

"You tell me."

Xx

Her heart was beating frantically in her chest, the impending conversation/argument making a dull feeling of dread fall over her. She stood outside Aaron's door for a good few minutes before she picked up the courage to knock.

He opened the door in a washed out Giants tee, beer bottle in his hand, hair mussed and unkempt. "Hi."

"Hi."

He walked back into his living room, leaving Stella to close the door behind her. "How's Mac?"

"He's fine. Sounds like it's done him some good, to be honest."

He sat down on his couch, not interested by the answer.

"How are you?"

"Well, I'm sat here trying to figure out when my girlfriend started cheating on me."

"Aaron…"

"You are, aren't you," he said as more of a statement than a question. She didn't answer. "God, I'm so stupid! So stupid!" He slammed his beer on the table, leaning forward with elbows digging into his knees.

She slid down into a chair. "Aaron, please…"

"When? Was it Chicago?"

"Yes."

He gave a humourless laugh. "So stupid…"

"It wasn't meant to happen. You have to believe me, it just… happened."

"Yeah, okay," he laughed, pacing to the other side of the room. "God, when I kissed you in his office and you went red! That wasn't embarrassment, was it? That was guilt!"

"Yes. Yes it was guilt. Guilt and hatred. _I hate myself, Aaron._ I hate that I've hurt you and that I've abused your trust. You don't deserve that. You are an amazing man, Aaron. Any girl is lucky to have you. But I don't deserve you."

"You should go."

"Aaron-"

"Now."

She crossed back to the door, but was called back before she disappeared out the door. "Stella, I hope you're happy." He was look out the window, hands dug in his pockets.

She tilted her head to the ambiguity of his voice and the statement. "You too," she whispered with sincerity, slipping away.

Xx

She walked from Aaron's to Sullivan's. It was over ten blocks but that didn't matter- she needed the peace to process what had happened, how much she had hurt him. The dull feeling of dread had been replaced with the ton-heavy sensation of guilt in the pit of her stomach, tears threatening to spill.

She'd never cheated on anyone before, never thought herself capable of it. Outside of the practically meaningless hook-ups at College, she'd never been cheated on either.

She'd also never hated herself so much before in all her thirty-eight years. Never had such a strong feeling of regret that it felt like she was being thumped in the guy whenever the memory appeared.

She'd hurt people before, sure, everybody had at some point, but more often than not it was physical pain in the line of duty or self-defense. She'd killed five people.

What was shocking her more was the element of relief she also felt. She was free to explore her relationship with Mac now, and he wanted to be with her! It hadn't gone unnoticed that they could be like a married couple at times, finishing sentences and not even saying a word in some cases. It hadn't been missed by anyone else either, so the evolution of their friendship wasn't really much of a shock.

Because that's what it was, wasn't it? An evolution. It wasn't a grand leap from friends to lovers, it was like a natural course for some. It certainly felt natural. In fact, it felt long overdue.

She found herself stood outside Sullivan's, not really registering how she had gotten there. She was transfixed on the tables by the window, where she and Aaron had sat just weeks before. Before everything changed.

"Stella?"

Nat's voice broke her reverie. "Hey."

"How'd it go? You've been to Aaron's right?"

"Yeah, how'd you-?"

"Figured. Was it awful?"

"Yes, but it's done now. I didn't deserve him."

Nat gave a small smile and laid a squeezing hand on her arm. "Come on, we'll get you a drink." She held the door open for her, but Stella spun in the frame, blocking the way.

"About… Bella and Jack…"

"Oh yeah, listen, they've sworn me to secrecy, so don't tell anyone, okay?"

She smiled, "Okay."

Nat winked with a grin as they joined the team in the bar.

"Okay," Stella announced with a smile to everyone- especially Mac, "last in the round, right? What y'all having?"

A barrage of orders came at her. "Whoa…five beers and a white wine?"

"I'll help you carry," Mac laughed as Danny announced she could get herself something too.

They burrowed into a gap at the busy bar, "How'd it go?"

"Horrible. I hate that I've been able to inflict that much pain."

"We. You weren't alone on that," he said, eliciting a smirk from Stella, "I wish you would have let me go with you."

"No, it was my thing to do."

"I'm sorry."

"I'll forgive you," she smiled, "Aaron might not, but…"

Joey Sullivan finally made his way to them. Stella ordered their drinks, sending him back away for the 'girlie drink' of wine.

She sighed, "What a day."

He gently and lightly traced across her wrist in inconspicuous intimacy, the sensation lifting her heart and blood pressure. She looked into his eyes, instantly recognizing those staring back at her- it was Mac. Her Mac. He was back. The corners of her mouth curled softly into a smile. There were still dark purple hues beneath his eyes, but they would soon go.

"Listen, I-" he began, interrupted by their drink order suddenly clinking onto the bar. Stella snatched her wrist away quickly, shifting the money between her hands. Mac straightened his back, swallowing his words and fastening a smile to his lips as a thanks to Joey. Had it been a woman serving them, their intimate display would have been obvious, thankfully Joey was none the wiser.

Cash in hand, Joey moved to the register as an onslaught of shouted orders came his way again. Stella turned back to Mac, "What were you saying?"

Before he could let the sound escape again from his opened mouth, Danny interjected and moved between them. "Parched over 'ere, Stel," he smirked, wrapping his fingers around the necks of the bottles, leaving just Mac's, Stella's and Natalie's drinks before them.

"You're welcome," she chuckled, leaning back as the he lifted the drinks high over their heads as he backed away. "Thanks, Joey," she said as the change was thrust in his hand. She smiled apologetically at Mac, tilting her head toward the group. He nodded, grabbing his beer from the bar and following behind, a hand falling instinctively to the small of her back.

Stella pulled herself up onto the stool Adam vacated for her, Mac standing near as she passed Nat her wine. Mac fed an arm behind her to lean on the bar, hoping he looked casual and nonchalant, and not that his thumb was tracing circles across her back, craving any kind of contact.

They all fell into easy conversation, the current football season proving popular fodder as the Super Bowl drew near.

Natalie proved herself more knowledgeable on the subject that they imagined, though her team was Greenbay Packers instead of Giants or Jets.

"Cheesehead," Adam subtly mentioned mid-cough, eliciting smirks all around and a proud back-slap off Danny.

Natalie smiled, "Yeah yeah, need I remind you of the 12 World Championships titles? Hmm?"

Stella laughed, "Touchdown, Roberts." The women of the group clinked their glasses together.

The conversations revolved again to various subjects as the next rounds of drinks came and went. Mac leant into Stella when the talk excluded them. "Before, I was going to ask…"

Stella nodded that she was listening, her eyes fixed on the bickering team. She pulled the straw from her whisky-coke to her mouth.

"I was going to ask you to come to Chicago with me."

Her head spun to him in an instant, the straw bouncing off the side of the glass as it felt from her mouth. "What?" She wanted to make sure she'd heard him correctly over the noise of the busy bar.

"Come to Chicago with me. You could do with a break as much as me and we can give 'us' a proper start."

Her jaw steeled as she thought about it. It _would_ be nice to get away, and to see more of Chicago than its airport and cemeteries. She thought about trying to start a relationship when they would be surrounded by the very people they were trying to keep it quiet from. Not a secret, but quiet at least. They wouldn't deny it if asked, but they weren't going to volunteer the information, flaunt it in public.

Her lips curled into a smile as she nodded, her eyes meeting his. He mirrored her grin, exhaling the breath he didn't realize she was holding.

She wrapped her free arm around her back to clasp his hand. He squeezed her fingers, wishing he could cup her chin and kiss her lips.

Natalie, sipping her wine, shot a quizzical look to Stella.

She broke out into a grin, giving Nat a wink in reply.

From behind her glass, Nat returned the grin, then feigned being sick at the sight.

Stella narrowed her eyes at her as Adam looked on, confused by the quiet exchanges in the busy bustling bar.


End file.
